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M. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. I should have gone mad without it. Martha had grumbled at being obliged to report the matter to Mother Josephine, who had decreed that Melusine must confess to Father Saint-Simon.
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